


an unrealistic guide to finding love when you're kind of high

by koumorinim



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: M/M, but no angst i swear, college student!hongjoong, hinted bottom!hongjoong, hinted top!seonghwa, i swear its hongjoong and seonghwa centric, i'm a literature student but don't expect a profound plot, i've never been in love but if i ever fall in love this is how i want it to happen, kind of crack i guess but my sense of humour is about as dry as a double dried prune, kind of fluff, mentions of drug use and tripping but aren't we all high tbh, no smut but if u're six and want a free sex ed class then u've come to the right place, red haired hongjoog is mentioned, side!yungi, switch!yungi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 18:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koumorinim/pseuds/koumorinim
Summary: Hongjoong decides that the rational way to discover love is to get laid. Except he's kind of out of it and most definitely not rational.





	an unrealistic guide to finding love when you're kind of high

"Fuck this!" Hongjoong exclaims in a weary mix of despair and fury as he slams his index finger on the backspace key. He glares at the screen, seething (but more notably, vexed) at the arial characters that rapidly disappear with every tick of the clock. In a matter of seconds, the Word document that was once filled to the brim with a bevy of words was now painted a pristine white. 

Hongjoong grabs at his mop of freshly-dyed crimson hair, thrusting his head in a rocking motion as he tries to wrack his brain for ideas. He has been awake for 51 hours (or to be exact 51 hours and 47 minutes) trying to come up with an essay that would impress the fuck out of his philosophy lecturer. Except the concept of the thesis was something out of Hongjoong's league. 

"Let's see the raw and tender emotions lurking in your naive little hearts." Hongjoong recalls his philosophy lecturer declaring after an hour-long ramble of how Kungfu Panda had ignited his ambition to be a mountain recluse with avatar powers. Hongjoong sighs, gingerly rubbing his temples, as he watches the ever-dramatic lecturer glide to the chalkboard with the stiffest display of jazz hands. For the love of god, he internally exasperates. Whoever thought that Philosophy 101 paved the route for an easy A was a fucking blockhead. Oh wait, it was yours truly that thought so. 

A grating sound produced by the friction between blackboard and chalk reverberates throughout the gargantuan lecture hall, forcing Hongjoong back to reality and away from self-deprecation at his predicament. He looks up, and god he wishes he didn't. Maybe, Hongjoong thinks, that looking up at the blackboard was a much worse mistake than having a melodramatic Kungfu Panda elitist as a lecturer. He rubs his eyes again, refusing to believe that the very lecturer who only yakked about cartoons would challenge them with such a profound subject matter. But life likes to fuck around with Hongjoong (and he had 20/20 vision so yeah, there was no fucking way in hell that he misread the large characters scrawled on the board), so he was once again met with the four letters that shook his entire world (and probably his grades too) then and there.

Love.

"Ugh," Hongjoong can only groan in anguish as he envisions the barely legible scribble of the four-letter word staring back at him. Maybe it's the weed he smoked a few minutes ago or sleep deprivation that's making him trip, but he swears by the Master Shifu phone accessory (that his gaudy lecturer had enthusiastically gifted to every student he knew) that the characters were mocking him.

"Virgin! Virgin!" The alphabet L taunts incessantly while the other letters seem to egg it on. Hongjoong had no fucking idea what the hell was going on but the only thing he knew was that he hated it. And he wasn't going to tolerate such behavior. 

"You know what, you frumpy alphabets," Hongjoong points at the empty porcelain-white page on his computer screen. "I'm going to prove your dipshit asses that I'm not a virgin at love. Just you wait and see!" He waves a finger (at once again, the blank screen), declaring war between those imaginary (but insolent in Hongjoong's mind) alphabets.

Hongjoong slams his computer shut, wincing a little at the loud bang that rings in his eardrums. He thinks he hears his wallet weep a little at the possible expense that would need to be forked out to pay for repairs but he appeases it by cooing at it. Money would need to wait, he decides. There was a bet to be won after all.

 

 

I should go out more often, Hongjoong notes, as he relishes the gentle autumn breeze that seems to caress him like a gentle lover (not that Hongjoong would know, but still, he likes to imagine). The sun is resplendent but not glaring so he doesn't feel like a sticky, melting puddle of goo. And he gets his dose of Vitamin D. Hongjoong basks in pride at the fact that he had somehow paid sufficient attention in Nutrition 401 to know this. But then again, what was the scientific name for Vitamin D? He mulls over this but it doesn't take long for someone to break him out of his train of thought.

He feels like the oxygen is knocked out of him and he struggles to catch his damn breath. Whoever the fuck thumped him on the back must be the offspring of Popeye. Popeye reminds Hongjoong of spinach. Spinach contains Vitamin K. Wait, did they ever learn about Vitamin K in Nutrition 401? Hongjoong brushes off the questions that bombard his brain. Now wasn't the time to think about some green leafy vegetable. He needed to know who the fuck had the balls to assault him like one of those hideous man-hungry titans in Attack on Titan. 

He musters his best impression of an Angry Bird and looks up. His eyes seem to travel for eternity before resting on a face concealed by a face mask and a pair of sunglasses. What the fuck, Hongjoong panics internally. Do two-meter class titans actually exist in real life? Hongjoong gingerly steps away, hastily planning an escape route in case the titan tried to make a meal out of him in broad daylight. It's not like the titan could devour him whole (judging by its size), but who's to say it couldn't pick Hongjoong up and skedaddle its way out of the busy city streets?

Hongjoong's too absorbed in planning survival tactics that he doesn't register the fact that the titan has removed the articles of accessories that concealed his identity. 

"Hongjoong hyung!" The titan gaily greets the shorter man with a smile so wide that it reveals the titan's sparkling set of teeth. 

Shock and fret gives way to comprehension and Hongjoong finally recognizes the titan. "Mingi!" Hongjoong heaves a sigh of familiarization (it's mostly relief because he legitimately thought his life was in danger but Mingi doesn't need to know that) and envelops the colossal male in a big bear hug.

"Why in heaven's name were you in that suspicious get-up?" The older male questions Mingi while trying to pull himself from the vice-like bone-crushing embrace that the lanky male had trapped him in (with noticeable struggle, of course). 

Mingi flashes a toothy grin that hints both mischief and innocence,"I thought it would look super cool!" Then he wrings his hands together and shyly adds,"Plus, Yunho likes mysterious guys.....". By now, Mingi's cheeks are dusted a deep scarlet red and there is the most lovesick-puppy-like sheepish smile painted on his face. 

Hongjoong's heart warms at the sight of this. Ah, young love. Hongjoong shakes his head endearingly with a fatherly smile and (attempts to, at least) pat Mingi's head. He wishes with all his heart that he can do something to help Mingi. But what good could a virgin at love do? Give advice? Matchmake? Good lord, it was like asking someone in lifelong abstinence what sex felt like. Sex.....virgin..... A mental lightbulb materializes above Hongjoong's head and he is once again, reminded of his purpose for stepping out into civilization. The burning desire to win this made-up bet rekindles (Hongjoong also makes a mental note for the nth time that maybe he's starting to emulate his philosophy lecturer's eccentric passion).

"Take me to the strip club where Yunho works!" Hongjoong exclaims with unnatural vigor. This declaration earns him numerous looks from passers-by who purse their lips and furrow their eyebrows in questioning mortification. After all, it's not a daily occurrence to hear someone profess their desire to patronize a strip club, right?

The expression on Mingi’s face hardens. “Yunho’s off limits,” Mingi emits a growl from the back of throat that rattles Hongjoong’s bones. But it doesn’t deter Hongjoong from achieving his goal of emerging victorious. 

“Yeah, but Yunho says there are really hot guys there and I’m trying to get a sausage in my bun for my philosophy thesis paper.” Hongjoong gestures the classic sexual innuendo, continuously thrusting his index finger into an ok-sign he made. To which Mingi’s expression softens and flushes, mostly likely at the thought of fucking or being fucked by Yunho. 

“Come on, let’s go before your soon-to-be raging boner elicits a police report for public indecency.” Hongjoong shoulder bumps Mingi while pointing to the latter’s too tight leather pants that are already showing signs of tenting. The younger male gasps, eyes widening in a hilarious mixture of horror and bashfulness, before quickly grabbing Hongjoong to (a) conceal his erection and (b) steer him towards the strip club where Yunho worked. 

And as Hongjoong was being guided (albeit unsteadily) by Mingi towards the destination beyond imaginations, he could taste the remnants of something so saccharinely sweet on his tongue. Maybe it was the sugary vanilla ice-cream that Mingi had begged him to buy on their way to the strip club or it was the sweet taste of victory. Or it could be both. Honestly, he didn’t give a fuck.

I’m winning, Hongjoong smirks as he lifts a creamy dollop of vanilla bean soft serve into his mouth.

So far, Hongjoong - 1. Alphabet - 0.

 

 

It’s loud and rambunctious, is what Hongjoong thinks when he steps foot into the strip club. Racuous club music blares from mega-speakers that he thinks are unnecessarily colossal and the lights are turned down so low that one can barely see the person they’re grinding with. Hongjoong almost prefers spending hours upon hours listening to his philosophy lecturer rant about Shrek and onions. Almost.

And luckily, Hongjoong already dug his ears and eaten his fill of Vitamin A-rich foods before coming to the world’s most deafening yet darkest place because he hears a familiar voice shout out and beckon towards Mingi and himself. 

Amidst the sea of people donning slutty leather shorts that could reveal their ass cheeks in one wrong move or lack thereof clothing, Yunho stands out like a sore thumb. Apart from his beastly height (much to Hongjoong’s chagrin), the tall male is dressed to the nines as if he was just invited to a royal ball and seems to be the only one who does not have an expression of pure lust. In fact, it’s pure childlike happiness that radiates from him.

“Hongjoongie hyung!” He is enveloped by a bone-crushing hug and before he knows it, carelessly swung around like a rag doll. Hongjoong thinks he’s on the verge of expelling the contents of his lunch (it’s Lucky Charms cereal so at least it’ll look like he’s puking rainbow and maybe he’ll be remembered as a unicorn rather than a virgin and he’s fine with that) but as soon as he feels the bile rising up his oesophagus, Yunho puts him down. To make things worse, Yunho plants a big fat kiss on Hongjoong’s forehead like he’s a sick toddler who needs fragile attention.

Hongjoong thinks he hears a growl from behind him and for a split second, he actually fears that there is a dog in the strip club that could rip him into shreds but then he remembers that he came with Mingi. And oh shit, Mingi’s jealous as fuck.

And so Hongjoong musters his best impression of his flashy philosophy lecturer.

“The pleasure is mineth but the sir of the show is Mingi,”Hongjoong tries to extravagantly imitate the way his lecturer snobbishly curtsied and grandly gestures towards Mingi.

Yunho’s eyes divert to Mingi’s outfit and Hongjoong swears he can see animalistic lust reflected in Yunho’s hazel eyes as the suavely-dressed male blatantly checks out the oh-so-sexy clothing that Mingi had specially worn for him. And the tented boner that continued to rage its fury by making the world’s most obvious seven-inch imprint on the world’s tightest leather pants. Yunho licks his lips, which sends an unwarranted supply of blood to Mingi’s cock once again, eliciting a mewl and cupped hands against his genitals. 

“Well,” Yunho cheerily chirps as if he had not just mentally (and might Hongjoong add, very blatantly) ravished Mingi,”I’m here with my friend and we’re just ogling male strippers because he kind of wants to be a stripper and I’m bored so yeah. Care to join us?”

“Yeah, whatever.” Hongjoong blandly replies but really, deep down he’s equally as interested as Yunho’s unnamed friend about the art of stripping. Did all strippers really get to wear fishnet stockings? Good lord, he thinks to himself, fishnet stockings were the best garment to own especially when wearing 4cm insoles in heels. (Don’t ask Hongjoong why he knows that. He just…..knows.)

Thank you, Mingi whispers and flashes a goofy smile at Hongjoong while locking arms with the shorter male.

 

What Hongjoong doesn’t expect to see is a blonde man furiously scribbling notes as a pair of notably attractive strippers literally shove their asses right in the man’s face. 

Hongjoong can’t see the man’s face well (courtesy of the disco’s light, or rather lack thereof) but he can make out the way that stares at the strippers in wonder, rotating between a motion of carefully studying them and scrawling in his notebook. It was a hilarious sight to take in.

“Seonghwa hyung! I’m back!” Yunho ethuses, brushing off the peculiar man’s actions as a frequent occurrence. 

The said blonde man (or Seonghwa, as Hongjoong had just learnt) turns towards Yunho’s voice like a deer in headlights and that’s when Hongjoong feels it with all his heart.

The man was ethereal. He had handsomely distinct features that looked like he was sculpted by the very hands of God himself. Doe-like eyes that were stained the purest of hazels reflected flecks of the colourful disco lights, making the man’s eyes all the more alluring. Lips tinted a blood orange as if the beautifully pale man was a vampire who had just finished feeding. And the sexiest body Hongjoong had ever laid eyes on. The man was obviously a frequent gym-goer, as dictated by the the lean muscles adorning the man’s limbs and broad shoulders. The fairly noticeable bulge between the man’s legs was the cherry on top, pushing Hongjoong to the brink of drooling over God’s gorgeous creation. 

Hongjoong is in the middle of mentally ogling the most attractive man on earth when he’s brought back to reality.

“-am Seonghwa.” A pale hand sticks out and Hongjoong’s heart flutters. Even his hands are pretty, Hongjoong admires while courteously sticking his hand out too to shake Seonghwa’s hand. Veins so intricately embellished on the man’s muscled hands and Hongjoong doesn’t know whether to thank the gods for affirming his libido or curse the gods because, god why is he getting horny from a handshake?

“Hong _joong_.” The shorter man manages to choke out and he is such a bundle of nerves that his voice cracks at the second syllable of his name, much like a pubescent teenager. Hongjoong flusters and he feels the blood rush from his hard-on to his face, tinting his cheeks a similar colour to his hair. 

“That’s cute.” Seonghwa laughs, lifting his hand and ruffling it in Hongjoong’s mop of hair. But all that is on Hongjoong’s mind is for any fucking entity, be it from Heaven or Hell, to dig him a fucking grave and bury him in it because he’s just embarrassed the fuck out of himself in from of what he believed was an embodiment of God.

Yunho and Mingi exchange knowing looks and nod towards the washroom to leave the two alone. But really, they just wanted to fuck and have mind-blowingly wild sex in public. 

“So…..” Seonghwa trails off, nodding towards the obviously horny duo (with hands planted on one another’s asses, of course) who were heading towards their usual fuck spot. “What’s your business here?”

A sea of memories hit Hongjoong all at once and for the nth time in front of the angel-like man, he flusters again. How in heaven’s name, Hongjoong panics, was he going to explain that he came to fuck because he was tripping on god knows what and made a fictional bet that only existed in his mind? And that it all started with a fucking philosophy thesis? Hongjoong buries his head in cupped hands.

“.......my corndog.” 

“What?” Seonghwa squints, trying to make out Hongjoong’s soft words that mixed in with clamorous club music.

“I said, I came here to batter my corndog. You know, fill my donut with jelly. Wage a lightsaber fight with someone?” Hongjoong looks at the ground in abashed shame, adorably tapping his index fingertips together.

“So…..sex?” Seonghwa raises an eyebrow. He has never heard such innocent analogies for sex and he thinks his heart does a little backflip. Maybe.

“Yeah…..it’s for my philosophy thesis paper.” Hongjoong wishes that God would fucking listen to him for once and let the ground swallow him and his embarrassment up. Sure, there are starving people in Africa but can God just feed Hongjoong to them so that he doesn’t have to remember this shameful predicament for the rest of his life?

“I haven’t stuck my sausage in someone’s bun before so I won’t be of much help but if you want to hang, you can call me.” Seonghwa grabs Hongjoong’s hand and proceeds to scribble digits on the shorter man’s palm with a black Sharpie (oh yeah, Hongjoong remembers that Seonghwa was taking notes in the club before they met). 

“Yo, Hongjoongie hyung. Are you done frolicking?” An obviously sweaty and tousled Mingi appears with an equally disoriented (and hickey-adorned) Yunho.

“Yeah, I’m done here.” Hongjoong struggles to stand up properly (mainly because so much blood had rushed to his head so many times and Hongjoong is pretty sure that his legs are oxygen-deprived). He locks arms with Mingi and forlornly turns behind to capture one last image of Seonghwa to store in his memories. 

Seonghwa offers a boxy smile, simultaneously winking as he whisper-shouts to _call me_.

The corners of Hongjoong’s mouth turns up and he swipes a gentle thumb over the scrawled digits on his palm. Hongjoong whips out his phone and clicks on the notepad app which displayed his most recent note. His finger hovers over the backspace key before he firmly rectifies the scoreboard. Hongjoong - 1. Alphabet - 1. Hongjoong breaks out in a knowing grin, all feelings of bitterness at the resulting draw dissipating.

Yeah, he wasn’t getting his buns buttered tonight nor was he going to touch fingertips like ET did. But he was getting an A on that god forsaken philosophy thesis. Because Hongjoong can see himself writing a 17 page essay on how Seonghwa was the Shrek to his Fiona.


End file.
